Room 212
by revrag
Summary: A story of survival and adversity. Endurance and love. Discovering how to overlook the things that matter least, for the reward of the things that matter most. ExB
1. Chapter 1

_Well that's surprising..._

When I agreed to take this class for continuing education credits, I thought it'd be a breeze. An interest of mine for a long time, Horticulture 100, would help me figure out the mess of my garden, and satisfy some of the requirements I needed to keep my license.

I didn't consider the possibility that Bella would be taking the same class. I didn't consider seeing her at all, in a class or otherwise, so I was quite shocked to see her sitting in the second row as I entered Room 212 for the first time.

My ex-wife looked very different. She was pale and very, very thin. When we dated and subsequently married, she always had a nice tan—not too light, not too dark. She had radiant skin. Her hair was also different and appeared to be tied back with a bandana. _Well that's new..._

Her hair was a different shade of brown entirely. It would take some getting used to, seeing her like this, I had always loved the color of _her_ brown.

Her head was down and she didn't notice my entrance. She appeared to be engrossed in the textbook which was mandatory for the class. I felt like a jerk doing it, but I kept walking past her, pretending I hadn't seen her. She never looked up, never knew I was there. _It's just as well._

I sat next to a few "kids" and waited for the class to begin. When the teacher arrived, she was whirling about and brandishing papers. I'd estimate she was 20 years older than myself, but her whimsical attitude and voice made me think she had a young soul.

"We're going to be growing a plant this semester. You'll be putting yourselves into groups of at least two, no more than four, and within that group you'll be taking turns caring for your plant. Yes, I'm aware this is all a bit high school—but deal with it. You will be given a seed in which to plant, and most of the supplies will be provided.

The supplies in which you'll have to take care of the plant cost nothing—like water and _love_." Her voice got even more airy, if possible, when she proclaimed the last need. Half the class snickered, including myself.

"I'll leave you alone for five minutes to organize your groups. If you're unable to find a group by the end of these five minutes I'll take anyone left unable to find a group and place you wherever I see fit. Now go."

I immediately turned to the two guys talking next to me and asked if they'd like to form a group.

"Sure man."

"Great. I'm Edward. What's your names?"

Well, that was easy.

My eyes trailed back to Bella. She had turned around fully and was clearly surprised to see me looking at her. She had dark circles under her eyes and I misjudged how very thin she had become. She looked...frail. It was unsettling.

She recovered quickly and offered me a small smile and then mouthed, "Do you want to work together?"

In a completely dick move, I pointed to the two guys next to me and whispered back, "Sorry."

She nodded politely and turned around.

I watched as she kept facing forward and she didn't attempt to move to find another group. She had never been one to keep to herself before and I found myself intrigued that she was being so introverted now. _Huh._

Just before our five minutes were up, a man walking in the isle behind Bella tripped and fell. His hand frantically reached out to grab the back of her chair but slipped off when it encountered her hair. I pulled my shoulders up anticipating the pain she would feel, but was horrified to see that her hair came completely off in the man's hand.

She was wearing a wig. _Bella was wearing a wig._ Even more surprising was the fine wisps of hair, patches of hair that were underneath said wig. I couldn't look away.

The man was very embarrassed and thrust the wig at her, and she smiled at him and said something reassuring—I can only imagine. He apologized again as the teacher approached Bella and spoke softly to her. I watched as Bella replied, and quietly collected her things. I noticed she had a backpack that was very lightly packed. I watched as she put the textbook back into her pack, and proceeded to put it securely in place on her back. Her movements were slow and calculated.

At some point the teacher had tried to gain the class's attention, as she was talking, I briefly looked up at her and saw her mouth moving, but the blood was pounding in my ears and all I could hear was my heartbeat.

_Thump, thump, thump._

I tried to swallow but my throat felt thick. I couldn't place what I was feeling, but I hated it.

I watched as she reached down to grab a cane and then keeping one leg extended, Bella slowly attempted to rise from her seat. It took several attempts, but finally she manged to upright herself and carefully draped her wig attached to the bandana over her free arm.

I could see the people next to her move to gather their things haphazardly thrown on the ground around their desks in an attempt to clear the isle for her. They gave her looks of sympathy as she thanked them.

I watched with heavy sadness as she limped across the room to the exit.

She didn't look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

I couldn't obviously feel it, but it felt like I could actually _feel_ it. It was really strange to me that my first thought upon seeing that mop of copper hair again, graying on the sides even, would be about some of our most intimate moments. I would climb into our bed at night after reading and he would reach for me. He would tangle his legs with mine and softly rub his foot and lower leg over the ridge of muscle in my calf, wrapping his arm around my body and pulling me close. It was a lullaby of sorts, the feeling of his soft hairy leg gently moving over my own.

"_...Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools."_

I would never feel that again. Ever.

I lost part of my leg to cancer years ago, not even one year after our divorce was finalized. _He had no idea._

I've grown used to the staring. Edward's staring, however, makes me feel smaller for a moment.

"_If you can make one heap of all your winnings and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss."_

When I enter the hall, finally, after what feels like forever, I push myself as hard as possible to make it to the end. The doors there will lead me outside to the fresh air I need. I don't quite make it—but that's okay. The distance between me and that awful humiliating experience is enough. I use my cane and the wall for assistance and a little too roughly lower myself to the ground. I'm okay.

_I'm okay._

"_If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you, except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'"_

I have this need to push myself. I think a lot of people do this, women especially. For me, it's _go,_ keep moving forward. I admit to showing weakness, but without weakness how could any of us know strength? There is opposition in all things and I've learned this lesson in life, most especially in the last eight years. I've known extreme sadness, and happiness that has a violent roar.

I'm okay. I'm okay. _I am okay_.

I keep repeating this over and over because it's true, but I'm also feeling very sick. My second round of this series of chemo was two days ago. I have always felt my worst on the third day post treatment. Yet I insisted I could handle going to class. My doctor warned me, strongly advised against me taking even one class. "You need to heal." he said, "Allow your body some time to adjust. It will be weaker this time. You will find this series harder than before."

However, I'm a pusher. Give me an inch and I take a foot.

"_If you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds' worth of distance run, yours is the earth and everything that's in it, and—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!"_

I have to get up off this floor. I have to control my breathing. I will have to go back in that class. Maybe not today, but someday. I have to face all those people who know my secret without my wanting to tell it. I know_ him_ well enough that when I see him next there will be pain and hurt and maybe even pity on his face. I will have to bear it. I will bear it.

_IF_ is something that gets me by. I repeat it over and over, and over again. So many lessons in that one poem, for me. It helps me remember, be strong. Live harder.

I feel the smallest bit of what is in my stomach churn. I am going to throw up. No sooner than I realize this truth I am heaving. Horribly loud sobbing heaves leave my person. My nose starts to water and then bleed. I'm thankful it's not a gusher, yet. I roll onto my good side and I can feel that damn old prosthetic detach and it hangs limply in my pant leg.

Of course I have nothing to vomit into. My bags for such occasion are in my back pack and my body is too out of control to be able to multitask. So I don't. I make peace with the fact that I will puke on this cold linoleum.

_I am strong. _

_I never say die. _

I take a deep breath.

I repeat the above. _I am strong. I never say die._

I repeat it again. _I am strong. I never say die._

I wipe my nose with my sleeve. I am calmer. I am focused.

I need help.

"Oh _Bella_." _His_ voice. After all this time, it's my salvation.

**A/N: **_**If**_** by Rudyard Kipling is quoted throughout in **_**italics.**_** It's one of my favorite poems, ever. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

I think the entire class felt shock and sorrow for Bella after witnessing what we did. I felt it. But_ I _felt more than that. It was hard to put a name on the feeling, hard to close my eyes and take a deep breath and not replay the way she repeatedly attempted to lift herself from her seat and fail, until she didn't. Until she did finally right herself and struggled to walk.

I watched her walk out. I felt like I'd been punched, beaten and didn't stand a chance of recovering.

But mostly I felt like when she left room 212, a part of me went with her. The part that had always been and would always be hers.

An old memory surfaces. It has nothing and everything to do with my current situation. When I was little, before my parents died, we lived in a quiet neighborhood. We were the last house on a dead end street. The neighbor directly across from us, Mr. Banner, was a WWII veteran. He had loads of war memorabilia and I used to play in his garage. One of the things that had captured my attention and held it was an old gas mask. It was carefully cared for and came in a camouflage bag with a drawstring. I would take it out and place it on my head and lay down in the tall grass on the side of his house. Whenever I put it back I'd carefully place my weapon, a thick knotted stick, along side it until the next time.

When Mr. Banner had a stroke, the upkeep on his home became too much for him, and his children decided to sell his home, liquidate his assets and he ended up moving in with his daughter. Before that happened, I found Mr. Banner in his wheelchair one afternoon and I was delighted to see him. I ran over to play and that was the first time I realized bad things happened—even to good people. He could no longer communicate well, or at all really. He drooled and one side of his body didn't move. When he gestured towards the mask, I went to get it. I brought it back and placed it in his lap. With his good arm he managed to push it back toward me.

I had watched the movers removing boxes from his home, so I had surmised he was leaving. I tentatively grabbed the mask and when he closed one eye, but not the other I took it to mean he wanted me to have it. For good. So I ran back home, straight to my room and hid the mask under my bed. I didn't want my mom to find it and tell me I had to return it, because I loved that mask! I had a lot of fun using the mask and it was mine!

Later that night I pulled it out and noticed that I had obviously not cared for it well enough the last time I played with it because the drawstring had been left open and the glass eyes of the mask were partly covered in dust. I put it on and could see out of it, but my vision was impaired. I used my sleeve to wipe the glass and I could see better—but not perfectly. The only way to remedy this would be to get cleaner and wipe it down completely. And not just any cleaner, it'd have to be glass cleaner specifically. I had remembered my mom substituting 409 cleaner on her kitchen window above the sink and it left streaks and made a big mess. "Edward," she would say my name in such a way that I knew she meant business, "Whenever you do something, anything, it's worth doing right. No cutting corners, because you'll be sorry you did and some things you'll just have to do all over again."

I remembered she had to buy glass cleaner and rewash the window. Knowing what I had to do if I wanted to see clearly with the mask on, I crept down the hall to the cabinet that held the glass cleaner. As quietly as I could I smuggled that cleaner in my shirt down the hall to my room. I sprayed the glass and wiped it clean with one of my dirty shirts. It was nearly brand new! I could see everything clearly, far better than I had ever seen out of it before...

I continued to stare after Bella left like perhaps she'd change her mind and return to the class, but she didn't. For the past 20 minutes, maybe even years, I had seen things through the lenses of a dirty mask. When I heard the faint clank outside of the room, something shifted. My focus redirected, not on the teacher explaining how we would work together, but on whatever was outside that door and likely now down the hall. On the woman who needed me. It became clear to me that I needed to go to her. Like there was a specific cleaner sprayed right over _me_ so that I could _see._

I haphazardly threw things into my bag and hurried out of class.

There was no preparation for the pain I would feel in my chest, in my whole being at finding her on the ground, crumpled with sickness. Her leg twisted unnaturally and she's attempting to puke off to the side, but she still gets it on her clothes. And if that's not bad enough, her nose starts to bleed.

"Oh, _Bella_." I softly say.

"Edward." she calls hoarsely.

"I'm here. What can I do?" I don't know. I don't. And it's killing me that I have no idea how to help her right now.

"Firstly, I'm a little annoyed to have you see me like this. I was supposed to be grand when you saw me next—if I ever saw you again. Not," she pauses and weakly moves her arm up and down her body, "like this." I just look at her, amazed and unsure of what to say. Is she joking or is she really concerned about her appearance? _Women._

I snort.

"You look fine." I lie.

"You're a liar, but kind. I'd ask to see your pinky if you didn't already know that trick." And she laughs.

Surprisingly, so do I. Laugh. It feels forced, but maybe a little good.

"Can I call Dad? Someone else? What can I do?"

"I'm so sorry to tell you this, Honey, but Charlie died a few years ago." She watches my face and I know what she is seeing. My heart break. She can probably feel it because she has felt the same.

I'm in no position to help her and I am useless against this agonizing, encompassing weight. I sit down next to her and lean forward so my head is between my bended knees. I'm trying to keep it together when I feel her hand tenderly rub my shoulder, and then pull me closer and wrap her arm around me.

"I shouldn't have told you like that, Edward—I'm so sorry. I've already grieved. I'm at a peaceful place about that now and I didn't think. I'm so, so sorry."

I lean further into her, taking a bit of the strength in which she possesses. I can feel wetness on my cheek and at first I think it's from my own tears, but when I wipe it away I can see that it's puke and blood. I wipe my hand on my pants.

"Bella, _how are you?_ _How_ did you survive it?" I don't understand. All. Of. This.

It doesn't make sense and my brain cannot comprehend all that I've seen and heard today. And if I can't comprehend...

"_Who_ has been helping _you_?" I ask incredulously. Because Bella and I? We're cut from the same cloth. And that cloth is a loner. _We_ are loners.

"I'll answer your questions, I will. But right now I need you to help me up and give me a ride. I see you've gotten a little bit of a belly now—which makes me feel a little better about myself...not even gonna lie about that, but I bet you're still good for a piggy back ride, right?"

I just look at her. I'm really not processing much right now. I keep hearing on a loop, _"Charlie died a few years ago."_

"Edward. _Calm down._ Listen to me, okay? I am going to help you help me. Nod if you understand."

I suddenly find my words, "I don't understand, Bella. I don't. Not even a little bit. And I'll have you know I'm great for a ride. Not _that_ type of ride... You know...never mind. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

She's actually fighting back laughter. My heart swells to see that in spite of this ridiculous situation, her eyes have sparked and for the first time since our reunion I see life in them. It's bursting from her. It gives me hope and it's enough to make me lighter.

"Can you put my hair in your backpack, please?" I cannot believe this. It's surreal. I focus on the task at hand and attempt to fold her _hair_ and bandana up to put it in my bag. It's harder than it sounds and I'm trying hard not to pinch her hair in the zipper. _Oh gosh, she can't feel it you idiot!_

When I finish, I look to her for more instructions and see that she has her pant leg rolled up and tucked and a steel, titanium maybe?, prosthetic laying next to what should be her...leg. Her _leg_ is _missing. _

And now I'm staring. The last time I saw her, she had two legs. Now she has one. And a half.

She visibly sighs, "I know, and I promise to explain, but I really do have to move—at least to outside. The air will help, I think. I feel like I'm going to be sick again, so anytime now would be good. I can attach the cane to my pack through this loop. Do you think you'll be able to carry me _and_ my leg?"

"Huh?" I've gone dumb.

"My _leg_, Edward. The prosthetic. Can you carry me and carry it?"

"I think so. Do you think it'll fit in my bag?" Now _that_ is something I never thought I'd say, or think, or have to do.

"Let's try it."

After a few seconds of moving things around, I offer her my hand to help her off the floor. She just smiles sadly at me for a moment.

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to lean down and lift me up. I can't pull myself up right now." She's embarrassed and I feel like an ass.

When I crouch down to lift her slight frame I smell her shampoo. It's the same as I remembered and I can't help myself and nuzzle my nose into her neck and up into a small fine patch of hair near the base of her head. I'm overwhelmed with emotion for this sweet, precious girl.

I have a 'leg' in my bag along with a wig and a broken girl in my arms. Her head rolls to my shoulder and her eyes have never been bigger.

"I think if you set me down I can brace myself against the wall and then if you bend down enough I'm pretty sure I can get on your back."

Her eyes. Her _hope_. She is looking right at me and she is so close.

"I'm fine like this."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

When we get outside I take some deep necessary breaths. It feels, better. Not quite good yet, but I can tell it will soon.

"I need to get into my backpack. Can you set me down on that bench and help me get it?"

"Of course. Which pocket?" Edward asks while gently setting me down. The bench is hard steel and has been painted several times, only to be marked up once again. Always in need of repair.

"The left."

He carefully leans me forward and he looks in my pack and pulls out a small trash bag. _Could have used that a few minutes ago..._

"My cell. You can't miss it." I direct.

"Found it. An android Bella, really?" He asks with some amusement. And I'm so...relieved. I feel comfortable with him and despite the fact that it very much should be—it's not hard. We were always good with each other, bantered, even towards the end of our marriage and I'm silently happy that that hasn't changed.

"Ha! Yes an android. It's totally tricked out, too. I have video messaging, like Skype, on it—which I absolutely love." As I'm talking to him he sits next to me. He has his arm on the back of the bench and I lean so that I feel his warmth across my shoulders, his side to my side.

"I need to call my ride, hang on."

"Do you want me to go? And hey, I can take you where ever you need to go. My car is in the lot. I think I can manage to carry you—even with my overgrown belly." He tells me this and his eyes are so green. They're clear but hurting. He's looking at me like he cares very much. I can feel it in my skin, his tenderness and sincerity.

"I had planned on you taking me home, actually, but I have to call Emmett and let him know I left class early. It'll just take a moment." I glance at him and he looks away from me. I see his jaw clench and feel his body stiffen beside mine. I make the call.

"Hey Emmett!" I try to sound cheerful, but my voice is too hoarse and cracks a bit.

"_What's wrong, Bella?"_

"I'm having a bad day. I had a feeling this morning that it wasn't gonna be a good one. You know I have to use my old leg. The new one should be back next week. Anyway... I was feeling sick and hurled on the floor in the hallway. It started in class, and I tried to make it, but then I was having a bad hair day, too."

"_Bad hair day, huh?" _I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Never mind. I was calling to tell you that I don't need anything. I'm getting a ride home with Edward."

"_You're kidding! Your ex, Edward?"_

"Ha. Yes. I'm not kidding—he's taking the same class as me." I smile up at Edward and he softens a very, very little. Still frowning though.

"_Are you sure that's a good idea, Bella? I can pick you up if you want. I'll have to call Rosie, but we'll figure it out."_

"Naw. I got it covered."

"Will I see you before Monday?" He wants to know.

"I'm not sure yet. I'll get back to you on that."

"OK. Catch ya later." And we hang up.

I look up at Edward. He's aged and looks different. He's still the most handsome man I've ever seen up close, but time shows on his skin, around his eyes and lined forehead. I wonder if he looks younger under different circumstances. I reach up to touch his sideburns that are peppered with gray.

"Poking fun at me for my tire, now my distinguishing ruggedness? You wound me." He mock pouts.

"You know I don't have a leg to stand on, right?" I joke, but it's too soon. I see the pain in his eyes. "Come on, take me home big, strong man."

He stands up and has learned quickly, and instead of asking me what to do he just scoops me into his arms. I feel overwhelmed with memories of a better, healthier time in my life. I have to 'rest' my head on his shoulder again to hide the emotion welling up inside me at his embrace. It feels _so good_ to be held. I didn't realize how very much I miss physical contact until just now. I overlooked it the first time just moments ago because everything was new and I wasn't sure what would happen between us.

Once we get to his car—the same one from all those years ago—I give him directions to my home. On our way, the conversation is soft and we don't touch on anything heavy. He teases me about using landmarks instead of street signs for instructions.

"It's a habit, I guess. Remember that time I went to India for a few months for work? You thought I was joking when I told you to mail it to something or other, 'around the corner from red rock'." He _does_ remember and we laugh.

We get to my street and my little house. It's not much, just over 1,000 square feet, but it's mine. Outright. I got it after Charlie died. I thought about keeping his home, but it wasn't functional for me. Ultimately, I had decided to sell and then buy something smaller and one level. Practical. I even had a small ramp built for wheelchair accessibility in the event the need ever arose.

Edward parked out front and then being the gentleman that he is, opened my door and helped me out. I leaned against the car so he could situate himself and I could get out my keys and then he was swooping down to aid me again.

"Give me just a second, Edward. And put me down. My dog is on the other side of the door and he's very protective of me, so I have to let him know you're safe."

"What do you mean he's protective of you? He's never bitten anyone has he?" He starts to peer into my window to see what he'll be up against.

"Define bite?" I smirk and unlock the door. "Jasper, come."

I cannot describe the surprise on Edward's face. Jasper is a purebred Mantle and he is my baby.

"I cannot believe you have a Great Dane, Bella!" Edward is laughing.

Jasper comes immediately and is a little over excited. He's borderline misbehaving because he's following my hand signals, but inching closer to Edward. He's also concerned because he can smell my bad day all over my clothes and his ears turn down in sympathy.

"Jasper, stay with me." I tell him.

Edward hasn't moved much from his spot on the porch, opting to take everything in.

I reach behind Jasper's ears and scratch so he'll loosen up a bit, and he'll know it's alright to relax. He leans into me slightly without his weight behind it. The dog is smart as hell. Danes are leaners by nature, and Jasper is no exception. However, he never does it unless I have my prosthetic attached and a crutch to lean on.

"You can pet him now, it's alright." I encourage Edward.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Edward holds out his hand palm up. Jasper sniffs at it and gives him a quick taste and then returns to business.

"Oh definitely. You should have seen the look on your face. Now that I mention it...your face all day has been pretty interesting to watch." I comment smiling because this is a surreal moment for me.

"I bet." He looks at me, and I can't put off explanations any longer.

"Well come on in and have a seat." I tell Edward before grabbing Jasper's collar and laying my front on his back. Using my good leg, I kick off the ground as if on a scooter, and...off we go, Jasper and I.

"And, you're riding the dog." I can feel his stare on my back. I giggle.

"Kitchen." I command Jasper before replying to Edward, "Yeah. I don't do this often, but he's very well trained to do what I need." I barely make it into the kitchen before I have to lean against the counter top for support. Just the short ride from the door to here has made me feel sick all over again. I hop to the sink and vomit. Jasper rests next to my good leg to offer support.

"What can I get you?" Edward is on my other side and reaching for a paper towel. He's seeing what it's like first hand for me and he's still here. Watery pink snot is hanging from my nose and like he's done it a thousand times, Edward reaches over and places the paper towel to my face in such a comforting way that I start to cry.

He doesn't say anything, just quietly observes and offers me his strength by rubbing soothing circles over my shoulders and upper back. I feel grateful.

I rinse my mouth and the sink, feeling marginally better. I tell Edward where to find a hand towel and a change of clothes for me. At first I'm a little put off that he's going to be going through my drawers, but then dismiss it entirely because he's done it before. There's nothing new in there that would surprise him, so it shouldn't bother me. Still. I even tell him he can wear his own shirt I use to sleep in that is draped on the end of the bed.

"I can't believe you have this old thing. I got it my freshman year of college. Course it didn't have all these holes in it then..." I can't tell if he's surprised to see I have his shirt still, that I use it on a regular basis, or that it's survived relatively in tact this long. Probably all three.

I let him use the bathroom while I slowly change my clothes in my room. Jasper stands guard next to me and his ears lay down whenever I gasp from pain. My joints feel like they're rubbing together as if sandpaper and my whole body _hurts. _I get another ride from Jasper just as Edward leaves the bathroom.

After giving him some instructions on where to find PB&J for him and chicken broth and crackers for me, Edward helps me to the couch so I can rest. He shocks me by grabbing both my thighs, my stump even, and swings them around so that I'm on the couch all cozy. He takes the blanket on the back of the couch and covers me up. It's effortless the way he cares for me.

"Thank you." I tell him. I'm emotional again and I try to hide it by calling Jasper over and telling him to lay down next to the couch. He obeys.

It takes Edward very little time to get the things we need and he's back with our supplies. He sits in the chair adjacent to the couch and takes a bite of his sandwich. We eat in silence and after the broth warms me I realize it's now or never.

I start at the beginning.

**A/N: I typically don't write stories without animals. Jasper in this story is my Peanut. Yes, I legit have a Great Dane named Peanut. And I have had to ride him just like Bella. I was on a run 5 weeks post c-section (I don't recommend that, btw) and it was just...too soon to be doing that crap. It's been almost 5 months and my hip still hasn't completely healed. Anyway, I tripped off a curb and tore my left hip ligament over a mile away from home. I could barely walk. My sweet, sweet Peanut carried most my weight the entire way home. I've never been more grateful to have a dog that was bigger than me!**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. The response to this story has been overwhelming. And really, thank you.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

"I went for a long run and the next day I woke up and my knee hurt. It was also twice its normal size. I just thought I had injured it on my run the day before, but the weird thing was that during my run it didn't hurt at all. I didn't trip or fall or stumble on gravel, nothing noteworthy happened that would cause the discomfort or swelling. Charlie encouraged me to see a doctor."

I take a few bites of a cracker and take a sip of warm broth.

"I called my PCP and by luck they were able to get me in that afternoon because of a cancellation. It turns out that it was a tumor and it grew rapidly. After doing a full body scan they also found it had metastasized. I had dozens of tumors in my left lung. By some...miracle, my right lung was clear."

I hear him take in a sharp breath. I know what he's thinking, and I know he's scared. I was there once. And I'm still scared sometimes, but I've learned to not be afraid to live.

"I had a 2 to 5% chance of living if I kept my leg and kept my lung—if I depended exclusively on medications to cure me. My percentage went up exponentially higher, to 65% if I cut my leg off above the tumor and opted to have my left lung removed."

I can feel his eyes on me, burning me with his intense gaze. When I look at him I can see his tears threatening to fall. He looks weary.

I pat the couch indicating I want him to sit with me and he moves to do so. When he's settled beneath my legs, he attempts to rest his hand on my right leg and touches the end of my stump. I can tell he's a little uncomfortable and doesn't know what to do with his hand, so I reach down and hold it.

"So," I blow out a long breath, "I decided that I was going to be the one to make up that 35 percent and went all in." I take another deep breath and remember what it was like that first year post surgery. "It was hard to reconcile the fact that part of my leg was missing. I fell so many times because I just...forgot. I had to learn to do things again, be independent again."

I can feel the trembling. That cold oppressive sweat that forms when I recall some of the darker times. The worst of times. My body knows the story, I know the story, but somehow telling it—even despite the fact that I'm here now and I know how it ended, it causes a very real response in my being.

"That time in my life...when I was first recovering, all of it was so much for me and losing my leg, being sick, it was trying to define me. I just wanted to be _normal._ Yet I was in this state of crippling despair—and despair has a one track mind, I swear it does. But, you know me." I smile at him and it feels so good. And it's true, he _does_ know me.

"What was the quote?" he asks.

"Come on! To settle on just one is impossible." I pinch him in the side and he grabs for my hand.

"Yeah, I know it. But I also know there was one, a stand out, and I know you had it on repeat. What was it?" He begins to rub my knuckles.

"You are going to laugh." I pause for a moment and watch his eyes crinkle. "'My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage.'"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." His brow is furrowed and he's trying to recall a name. I smile wide.

"It's from _Practical Magic_." I cover my face in my hands and hold my breath.

The room is very quiet except for Jasper's snoring.

"Huh."

"That's..._it_? _Huh_?" I stare at him because there is no teasing. No ridicule of any kind and that isn't like him.

"Bella, if there was ever a time where you felt less than, like you weren't adequate or whole or worthy or whatever you may have felt. Like you weren't normal—that's what you said, I cannot laugh or mock what pulled you out of it." And he's so sweet and tender. Two years too early, or eight years too late, but he's just the same. Everything I remember and more as he holds my hand.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I'm much better now, well, not recently physically only because of the new series. It's sorta bizarre how this tumor was found. I had a toothache."

Edward's eyebrows arch. I smile a little because I know this look.

"Yeah, I know. I've never been more grateful for a damn toothache! I went to the dentist and he filled the tooth and then after a few weeks with no resolve, I had a root canal. The pain persisted, so he referred me to an oral surgeon. I ended up having the tooth pulled." I pull my lip up and back so he can see the hole where my tooth once was. "No tooth, no pain, right? Wrong. At first he thought it might have been dry socket, but after two weeks, it just wasn't healing properly. He said the socket looked different. Anyway, he did a cone beam CT scan and found a tumor in my sinus cavity that was poking down slightly in the extraction site. It looked funny because there was a tumor trying to weasel its way out through the hole in my mouth!"

"How many more treatments do you have?" Edward asks me cautiously.

"I have one more treatment this series, which will be in two days. Then I take a break. I have one last full round of chemo and then that _should _be it. We'll do more scans, again, but the tumor that was in my sinus—the same oral surgeon who removed my tooth also removed the tumor—was the only one. There were no additional signs anywhere in my body of recurrence, just the one localized site."

"I can't believe you never contacted me." He says softly. He's hurt. I press my palm against his palm and curl my fingers around his.

"I had Charlie, Edward. I did. I had him for a long, long time. And you and I both know, if I had called you, you would have come back. You would have dropped _everything_. You might feel like you have a broken heart now, and I'm sure you do, but I'm here. If you had come back before now, I would have felt responsible for all that you would have lost."

He looks positively spent. I've unloaded a lot onto him, the poor man. He brings his free hand to the crown of my head and caresses the top of it with a kiss. I feel his wet on my scalp.

"I wasn't going to bother you. I was going to pretend you didn't exist when I saw you in class. Bella, I was planning on avoiding you at all costs, because I was afraid. I am not going to tell you I was wholly miserable since we've been apart, because mostly I've been a machine. I did exactly what I told you I'd do. And-" I cut him off.

"That, right there...makes it worth it. I'm so happy to know you finished!" I squeeze his hand as hard as I can manage.

"But at what cost?" His sweet face is anguished.

"Don't worry about that right now. I'm so tired. I need to take a nap. We can talk more later. Help me to my room?"

I feel him sigh, long but relenting.

"Let's go sweet girl." I smile into his chest as I scoot as far as I can to help him maneuver my body into his arms.

"You have got to be exhausted hauling me around all morning." I tease.

"No doubt about that. My back is killing me."

Jasper rouses and stretches across the living room, tongue and tail curled.

"What's his span?" Edward stops to let Jasper get his joints moving again.

"Seven feet, two inches." I state proudly.

"Of course he is. Two hundred pounds?"

"Give or take."

"Is he coming, too?" He speculatively appraises my dog.

"You bet ya. It's really the only way I can warm up fast. You know, you can head home and come back later, or Monday. You can come to my chemo appointment on Monday with me, if you want."

"I can figure out Monday, and I'll be there. I can stay with you now though. I mean, I'd like to stay with you now—if that's alright with you."

"I'd really like that."

**AN: Edmazing rec'd my story at The Lemonade Stand. That really blows my mind. All of you, just blow my mind and I'm humbled by your kindness. I do plan on responding to everyone's reviews, but my life has been crazy lately, and I thought you might like an update instead.**

**I hope you are all well and if you get a chance in the next few days, go over and vote for your favorite stories at The Lemonade Stand.**

**rev**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

I'm propped on my elbow. Uncomfortable to say the least. I am curled around Bella and I have a horse curled around me. I didn't think it was even possible for all of us to fit on her queen bed. We barely do.

I'm watching her sleep. Her forehead is not at rest. When she breathes now, it's deeper. I've never witnessed first hand someone struggle with only one lung, but I'm witnessing it now. I really look at her. She is so much different than when I left.

My eyes start to water and I'm overcome with emotion that she would ever let it get this far, that she _has_ let it get this far without me.

Her head is shiny in parts and in others her hair is taking a stand and refusing to give up the ghost. Stubbornly, it holds onto her scalp telling this disease, "You cannot take me!" And on the fringe of those persistent areas, her skin is scaly and rough looking. Beaten down from medications that are meant to kill. Meant to kill the bad in her, but still straying away from the plan and harming her in the process.

She is so strong. She knows her strength, but she doesn't know the half of it. But I can see that she's still just a girl. That she's vulnerable not because of her physical limitations, but because she thinks that I may feel different. I know this because of the way she smiled in class, polite yet sad, and then turned around.

I want to touch her everywhere, feel that she's real. I don't because as much as she is a girl, I am a man. In my mind, all these years later, I am still very married to her. There has been no one else for me, there will _never_ be anyone else for me. However, I have a horrible feeling that she has someone else. Someone by the name of Emmett.

I want to kill him.

I have no right to this jealous nagging suspicion. I saw her love for me and felt it in her fingertips. It may even be a little ridiculous of me, but I'm feeling a little angry at _her_ because of it. Has _she_ moved on? Was it because she needed help?

I look around the left side of her room, not wanting to shift too much and wake her. There is no sign of another man here. She gave me my shirt to wear earlier—surely she wouldn't keep hold of it if it was being replaced by another. Right? But if she has moved on with someone else, why isn't he taking care of her now?

I'm so pissed off and I feel dumb. Numb. Irrational and I want to wake her up and demand answers.

Instead I lay my head back down, my arm underneath it, and stew. I have to silently count so my body will relax. I remember a skill taught in a physiology class years ago. I think of my toes and how relaxed they are, I move up to my feet, then calves—telling myself that each part is more relaxed than the others. I allow myself to feel the tension slowly resolve and dissipate.

My head clears somewhat and I feel _guilty._

I take a deep breath.

If she moved on she was within her right, even if she insisted that it would be _me_ that would be the one, that could ever do so. Her reason was, _"Because you're a man, Edward. I know you're my man now and tomorrow, too, but maybe you won't always be."_

My eyes creep to her opened closet, and peeking out is my old guitar case. I haven't played since I left her. I can see the handle and that the leather casing is worn in places it wasn't before, like it's had use but is still well cared for. Does she play now?

I stare down at her and her eyes are open looking at me.

"I didn't believe you were really here." she says in the softest whisper.

All the angry, horrible feelings I had just had don't exist. I know I need answers from her, and she from me, but seeing her so readily sure I wasn't right here. Right here. That I wouldn't be here for her sobers me. Pulls me from any desperation I may have and shoves me down, in place on this bed. Near the arms of my girl with a monster at my back.

I squeeze the arm I have around her tiny waist.

"Don't be tentative. I need to feel you right now."

"I don't want to hurt you." I tell her, because I'm scared. I have to learn to adjust to a different way of loving her.

"You won't."

It's the way she says it that gets me. _Emmett who?_ I'm still the one she longs to be with, who she wants wrapped around her. She's not saying it out loud, but she's asking me to stay and never leave her again.

"I won't." I whisper back.

I tenderly cradle her to me harder. I'm not tentative anymore, I'm careful—but my arms mean it. I mean to bring her to me as close as I can have her. I'd have her inside my skin if I thought either of us could take it.

My head is swimming with newness. Everything is different now. There is excitement brewing inside of me that I gained a few years, and a sadness, even a deep ache, that slows my heart.

"Oh Edward, I've really, really missed you." Bella tells me and I can see her honest eyes swell again.

"I know, Sweetheart. It's been the same for me."

We lay quietly for a little while longer. No words are exchanged, but I have so many words that are circling about, trying to piece themselves together so I can make sense of things. I think, but maybe it might be the same for her.

Soon she has to use the bathroom and I have to let her go. She whistles softly and her obedient dog steps onto the floor, stretches and comes around to assist her. I watch as she pats Jasper's head and scratches his back giving him commands that he doesn't think twice about following.

Once she's out of sight I stretch like a starfish, my legs and arms wide. I feel the pull in my neck—it's a little stiff, but I've had worse.

"Bella?" I hear a man's voice coming from the front of the house. I freeze.

I listen closely and I hear loud steps coming closer, and then what sounds like a child giggling and running toward me. Before I can calculate what my next move will be the bedroom door is pushed open with force and slams into the wall behind it.

A little girl, maybe two or three years old, big brown eyes and long honey brown hair is staring at me. Her eyes zero in, find me staring and she starts to giggle.

"Dat man fun-ney, Daddy. He like diss." And I'm treated to an illustration, right there on Bella's bedroom floor of what I must look like in her eyes. She's sweeping her arms and legs in an exaggerated motion and if there were snow on Bella's bedroom floor she'd be leaving behind an angel.

"Emily?" Bella's voice floats in. "I thought that was you, Sweetheart."

"Jas-ter!" The little girl easily hops up and runs to Bella and Jasper. The dog is clearly excited and Bella barely has time to stand and hold onto the door frame before the dog launches up on his hind legs and greets this child like an old friend. Her face is completely wet and gross and she's laughing and that's my cue.

I cough lightly and sit up on the bed.

"Bella, I'm really sorry. If I had known..." The man glances at me apologetically and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

"Don't worry about it, Emmett. Help me to the living room, would ya?"

I begin to stand and go to her, but _Emmett_ has already grabbed a hold of her and off they go. He's stolen her from me.

I shake it off and follow closely behind them. I watch as he places her on the sofa and busies himself with getting her a blanket. He's very familiar to the place and knows where things are. He reaches into a side table and pulls out a bandana and hands it to Bella.

"Oh my gosh! I thought I was wearing one already! Edward, did it come off while I was sleeping? Oh gosh, how _embarrassing_!" She pats her head and finds it bare, and just as quickly as the realization hits her, she's fashioning the cloth to fit over her head.

"It's been off the whole time, well, since class." I feel awkward.

"No, I know it. It's just I almost always have one on—I'm not...comfortable, usually, without it." She's looking at me sheepishly.

Does she not want me to see her like she is? She's incredible and she's worried I won't _see_ her unless she's covered up? She can't be serious.

"Well, hey man, I'm Emmett." _Emmett_ extends his hand in an offering to shake mine. He's completely serious, and I am, too. I'm not shaking his hand.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I've forgotten my manners. This is Emmett, my _physical therapist._"


	7. Chapter 7

I want to laugh. I do. The situation is a little funny. I can tell Edward is jealous of Emmett, with no reason. He's new to this. New to me in a lot of ways. But I don't laugh.

Not at all.

I _hurt._ I'm having a hard time controlling the pain. It feels like I'm on fire, but frozen. It's hard to describe exactly the feelings I'm experiencing in my legs alone. Ants. Fire ants even. A million, no, a trillion fire ants working, constantly up and down my good, whole leg and then my handicap, I may as well have a whole leg for the pain I'm experiencing in that one. I can't move, it hurts too badly, yet I can't sit still.

Emmett can see it on my face when he looks nervously to me after dropping his hand. Edward is being ridiculous, but he's nervous so I'll have mercy on him.

"One or two?" Emmett asks.

"Two, please. Thank you."

"Sprite or broth?" he asks from the kitchen. He's getting a glass.

"I think I'll try Sprite, a very little bit."

"Stirred?"

"Yes, please. But leave a little fizz."

Edward is confused. The poor man, it's just so much to take in. As Emmett starts back into the room with my pills, stirring my soda I feel the need to let him in on our secrets.

"Emmett and I go way back, Edward." I tell him because it's true.

"Okay. What does that mean...exactly." He asks. And that's a fair question.

"When I lost my leg, my body had to make adjustments—compensate for what I was now lacking. I needed physical therapy to help aid me in the transformation. I was referred to Emmett and we've been together ever since."

"Define 'together' please."

_Oh, he's tense._

"He's been my physical therapist. That's it—quit getting all huffy. I swear you're such a weirdo sometimes." I laugh a little, but it hurts. _Damn it._

We hear a bang in the hallway, and it's the table at the end that nearly knocked over. I should just move it. I turn my head and weakly point for Edward to watch the show. Emily and Jasper are up to no good.

"Hey Emily, Sweetheart?" I call to her. "Edward, you have to see this. Jasper only does it for her, but it's so cute."

Emily comes running out into the living room and talks excitedly telling us to watch. "Tlease watch dis! Tlease Bella Cull-en!"

I crane my neck enough to satisfy her, but I don't see her. I have seen this many times.

Emily calls 'Jaster' over, tells him to sit. She uses the hand signals, too—it's the cutest thing ever. She tells him to lay down, to stay. He watches her as she throws his ball down the hall and she tells him to stay again. She gets on his back, hangs onto his collar for her life.

She waits. He waits.

Then she tells him to 'go get it' and he roars up like a bat out of hell and runs after his ball. His take off is so quick he knocks into the table and digs into the hardwood when his legs give out just a little before his paws get purchase onto the floor.

Emily squeals and bumps into whatever he does—but she never complains. It's the ride of her life!

"That dog is amazing, Bella." Edward watches in awe.

"He is." He really, really is.

"But you're such a loser. _Loser._ I know what you're doing and I'm not going to be distracted." He tells me. He's looking at me and one corner of his mouth is lifted.

Emmett has wandered off to take Emily and Jasper outside, I think. He's giving us space.

"Hale first, honey." I'm testing him. I wonder if he remembers. His eyebrows draw together briefly.

"Hail?" He questions. I feel a little sadness that he doesn't remember. He looks out the window quickly and looks back to me with a wide grin.

"I thought you had forgotten." I say softly.

"I would never. I just don't...I don't know where anything is. Where's Hale?"

"In the top drawer of the server in the dining room." He's already moving to get my supplies.

When Edward and I were newly married I started work as an engineer for a company that manufactures kitchen exhaust hoods and air handling equipment for restaurants and fast food chains. I still work for the same company only on a very part-time basis and am currently on medical leave. I have a patent out now that will ultimately help reduce emissions and there are a few other 'projects' that have kept my mind occupied.

During the first month, I bent down to lift a hood and hurt my back. I had to, embarrassingly, take six weeks off to heal. I stayed home, and for the first few days it was great, but I became bored easily. Edward was in school part time and working full time as a veterinary assistant. I was at home with limited capabilities and on pain medication that made me feel a little loopy. I was discouraged that there didn't seem to be much that I could do.

I read one morning a quote from an inspirational daily calendar that Edward had gifted me—knowing that I was a sucker for quotes, and it had inspired me. It was by Edward Everett _Hale._

"_I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do. What I can do, I should do. And what I should do, by the grace of God, I will do."_

I was watching the news that same day about the need for cotton crocheted bandages primarily in 3rd world countries. These bandages are a unique necessity for burn victims and victims of Leprosy, or Hansen's disease as it's known more commonly today.

I don't know how to explain it any other way than the stars aligned and I found a new mission. I knew how to crochet—that was something I could do. When Edward came home from work I excitedly told him about my plan. Despite the fact that he was exhausted, he took my supply list to the craft store and purchased everything I would need to make the bandages.

It was such a big project, really, so Edward named it 'Hale' because, _"you're putting as much effort and time into this as you would a person, Bella!"_

All these years later, and most especially when I'm as sick as I am now, I turn to Hale. Because it's something _I can do_. It makes me feel better. It's therapeutic and depending on the pattern and how intricate the bandage is I'm working on, it helps me focus on something other than the _hurt_. The pain.

"How many bandages have you made?" Edward is back in no time and handing me my things.

"I don't know. I've lost track."

He moves to sit next to me. He's close and emitting the best kind of warmth. A warmth I've missed and longed for and needed.

"You're a Saint." He whispers to me. He's serious.

"I know. You so wish you could be as good as me." I tease him.

"I do. I do all the time." He rubs his face with both hands and then leans forward clasping his hands together. He braces his forearms on his knees and remains hunched over for a few seconds. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. My purpose was...not what I thought. I _knew_ it was to stay with you, but you were so convinced that I was supposed to leave!"

"Edward," I had told him in no uncertain terms, _"You are going to realize that the sacrifice you're going to make now and for the next few years, will prove instead to be the greatest investment you'll ever make."_

"You don't know that. I think that we needed this time apart." I stall.

I don't really believe it myself. I mean, I do. It was necessary, our divorce. It made sense on paper, but never in our hearts.

"I would have been a distraction, Edward. I already was." I can feel the tears well up and I manage to keep them in.

"You were a _welcome_ distraction though." He takes my hand. "I felt...more focused than ever when you were with me. Not that, not that I wasn't focused without you. If anything, I may have been a little more driven only because I wanted so badly for it to end! I wanted, no, _needed _to get back to you.

I wasn't happy. You know, I live in this dump of an apartment. I've been back for less than 6 months. I can afford something nicer, really nice now...the only small indulgence I have with that place is the small garden I pay for that is in a common area. I've been set on the idea of having to pay off my student loan before our 10 year mark. I was going to come back to you with all my debt gone. I would have this solid job and very nice income to help support us for the rest of our lives."

"You know that part never mattered to me." I tell him because it's the absolute truth.

"I know! Bella, I know that—but it has always mattered to me! Now, in the scheme of things, I can see it a little better from your perspective, well, marginally. It's harder for me. I'm supposed to be '_the man_'...bring home the bacon and all that."

"Oh knock it off, _'the man'_. I'm just as capable of being _'the man'_ as you are." I tell him pointedly.

He smiles. It reaches his eyes and he knows I've got him.

"Yeah, you are. You're _'the man'_."

"Thank you." I beam.

Despite the pain, which is beginning to lessen a little, my heart is lighter. I feel myself relax and allow the medication to work and my shoulders slump.

"You're totally going to zonk out on me, huh?" He reaches over to put a soft palm to soft fabric and gently pulls my head closer to him so I can snuggle closer, share his heat.

"I don't mean to, but I'm really tired."

"I know, Sweetheart. I'll get you something light to eat. If you took those pain meds, you're going to need something more substantial to keep them down."

And right there. My eyes well again because he just knows stuff that I forget, or overlook or whatever—but not him. He's back, truly, for less than 12 hours and already jumps in to care for me. I'm so overwhelmed.

"I can't eat too much right now. Maybe some crackers and cheese, I could try cheese. Ask Emmett for help if you need it."

"I don't."

"Oh don't be a turd. He's a good man, very married even. Has children. He knows where everything is."

_Such a possessive man, Edward._

He snorts a bit but is thawing, I can tell.

**A/N: I'm very sorry to end it here, more answers to come—in what I hope is in a more timely manner. I don't know that it's really anything I need to apologize for, getting this update to you so much later than I had wanted, but a real tragedy happened and...well, my heart is still recovering.**

**So the only real message I want to share with you, besides the update itself is that if you have loved ones, even little ones, hug them close to you. Love them hard and cherish them with your whole heart right now. This second.**

**Thanks.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

I'm on a mission.

I've called the clinic and moved things around. I cannot take any substantial amount of time off right now, as I have patients and their humans who depend on me. But I have half a week.

One half of a week to reconnect and gain a life that was put on hold. A life that wasn't supposed to come back to me for a few more years, but a life that was always mine regardless.

Bella.

I'm in awe of the person she is, who she has always been. I'm moved by how much she's accomplished, how little she's complained, how much of her heart still exists within my own. I have repeated to myself over and over that she's here. Right now, she is here with me.

I bite my knuckle with emotion over the realization that she almost wasn't. That her life could have been lost. Lost to me. Lost to the world. How sad for the world...to exist and move and rotate without her in it.

Saturday night I slept with her. She was up sick a few times in the night, and while it was an adjustment, it was also comfortably familiar. Except for the dog—but we'll work on that eventually.

I had to come back to my apartment though. I had things I needed to do for work, to get together my belongings and give my notice to move. My landlord will not be happy to let me go, I'm sure of that. I'm not happy about losing my deposits, but it's a consequence I'm willing and able to make.

It's interesting how my perspective has changed on a dime, all because of a class. No. Not even that. I saw her sitting there and I told myself to do nothing. That seeing her would change nothing. My perspective was...not the same as it is now. I have been living a life with the sole and only purpose to achieve my goals first and foremost...and then return to her. I would not, could not alter from that purpose, from our plan—because it meant that the end result, having her again, might not be obtainable.

I was in my late, late thirties. I was the oldest person in my graduating class. I knew the jokes being made on my behalf, and I knew I would have to work harder than the rest—and I did. If only it hadn't taken me so long to get accepted! Things would have been different...

"What took you so long? I could have taken the bus instead..." she asks and tells me.

Bella is wearing soft worn-in jeans, a ¾ sleeve baseball tee-shirt and a baseball cap. Hanging down from the inside of the hat are two thick dark braids. She's wearing light make-up, no lipstick.

She looks beautiful. She looks alive.

"I told you I had to get a few things. I took a shower, too. Thought you might appreciate that." I smile at her because how can I not?

"Come here so I can appreciate it then, Handsome." She's smiling coyly and I have missed her.

My arms find her waist and I bring her close. Her fake hair in the way of her neck, in the way of where I want to curl up and live. Her nose inhales deeply and then she pushes the air hotly back into my shirt and it pierces my skin.

"I don't want you to leave me again. How silly is that? I've gone all this time without you—but now that you're back I can't last an hour."

As I run my nose along her throat, I trace her jaw with my fingers. When she looks up at me, she has to see the intent in my eyes, and she does. Her eyes move to my lips just before they close.

I have kissed this woman a thousand times or more. I have felt her skin beneath mine, her breath in my face, her heartbeat against my lips. I have felt her hold me and burn me from the inside with her love. I have loved her for most of my days. And kissing her has always felt natural, instinctive. But this kiss.

This second first kiss feels like time should be marked by it.

This kiss, this promise, this _hope_ is where I will always remember our beginning. All the obstacles and walls that were built in the absence of us, everything we've survived—all of it—is worth it. This kiss.

**BPOV**

His smell, his taste—it's so much better than I ever allowed myself to remember. He tongue gently touches mine, and I can feel his breath on my face...

And for this moment that will undoubtedly linger in my heart for all the remainder of my days, I feel whole. Complete.

"So, Bella—who's your friend?" Charlotte asks. Her eyes are twinkling and she's looking at her watch.

My eyes roll.

"This is my Edward." I feel positively giddy. Happy. Despite the fact that in a few minutes, I'll be just one of many. My port will be cleaned, wiped off, swabbed with alcohol and the toughest part of me will yield to a needle, by force and pressure that has become familiar. Welcome even, because it means I'm alive.

"Are you serious?!" And off she goes. She knows my story well. She's heard it more than once.

All the while keeping his fingers in mine, I look around. The bay is empty save for one woman I have never seen before. She has someone with her, and this person looks uncomfortable, like if there were any other place in the world she could rather be...

I decide to push aside my selfishness and instead of sitting at the other end of the bay and talking privately with the only man I have ever romantically loved, I choose a seat instead that is next to this woman.

Her eyes meet mine and they hold a sadness in them that I hope to never, ever know.

"You can sit next to me, here." I tell Edward, pointing to the recliner next to mine. They're all recliners, with small tables between them, in a solid unmoving line in front of a bank of floor to ceiling windows. I've always wondered why the recliners don't face the opposite way, so we can actually see out these beautiful windows during treatments. Instead we are faced to see the starkness of our reality, or feel a camaraderie with those that we're forced to keep company.

It's freezing in here today. It usually is. I'm about to sit down when Edward decides to take my spot. I'm about to object when he opens his legs wide enough to indicate I should sit with him.

"You've got goose bumps, sit with me and I can keep you warm." he tells me. He waggles his eyebrows mischievously and his eyes crinkle with a smile his lips try to keep in.

"You're lucky this appointment is less than an hour." I sit on his lap and the chair is just wide enough that we'll work sitting like this. I can be comfortable, even if he won't.

"...and I just never thought this could happen. I wasn't prepared, and I'm in _so much pain_...all the time." The woman receiving treatment is talking to her companion. If I thought they looked out of place before, it's nothing compared to how they look now. "I don't know how I'm going to do it. I don't know how to say goodbye."

She softly weeps. I look to her...companion and she's playing with her phone. I've met quite a few people like her—those who just don't know what to say. What to do. How to feel when someone they care about is dying. She's being insensitive with not knowing how to_ be._ After a few moments she excuses herself and this sick woman is left alone.

There is a small distance between my chair and this woman's. I may not know her, but we have something in common. I reach for her with my hand palm up. An offering. A telling.

I am here. You are not alone right now. Take my hand and let me help lift your burden.

I don't say any of those things aloud, but she understands every word and intention when she quietly slips her hand into mine.

Charlotte gives me a heated blanket, I am hooked up with medicine, given another blanket and over the next 30 minutes or so this woman, Margo, tells what life is like for her now. She tells us all about her three, small, beautiful children that she will leave behind far sooner than she or the doctors expected. She's fighting now so she leaves behind a message for her children—never give up.

Her friend never returns.

"I've talked forever! You've been so kind. But what about you? What is your story?" Margo asks.

"It's a wonderful story, but it has a bit of a lull—I gotta tell ya." I smile at her. "Edward here," I pat his leg for effect. "...and I have just reunited. You see, we got married about 12 years ago, but got divorced four years later. He just...couldn't keep up with me." I fake sniff and Edward scoffs. I don't want to get into why I'm here, specifically. It feels like I'll be rubbing it in her face—I'm going to live, and you will not. I think Edward knows what I'm doing.

"She's a crazy person, but it's true—I can't keep up with her. Really though, we got divorced to play the system. We might be divorced, but I'm still bound to her." he turns to me, "Didn't you say we were like a tether ball...no matter which way you hit the ball away from you it'll always come back?"

I smile and, "Yeah. Just like a tether ball. Man, I loved that game growing up."

"Well, anyway, Bella is...super smart. She landed a job straight out of college and was contracted immediately for five years. Guaranteed income. I was so proud of her. Anyway, we met just before she graduated, fell in love and got married within 6 months."

I watch his hands gently stroke up and down my leg while he tells our story.

"So she had this super cool job and she's a smarty pants. Meanwhile, I'm going to school and sending in applications for Veterinary school and get rejected. I was rejected once before we even got married, but then got two other rejections. I finally applied...just anywhere. I applied out-of-state—I didn't even care, I was almost 30 and only had a vocational degree behind me and at the time I thought it was so lame. I kept at it and I finally got accepted into the University of Nebraska-Lincoln School of Veterinary Medicine and Biomedical Sciences."

"Say that ten times fast." I joke.

"The new problem then became, well, a few problems. First, I'd have to go without Bella because she was on contract with her employer. I didn't like it, but I felt desperate and it was only temporary—the separation. Then, I didn't qualify for the amount of financial aid I'd need because as a married couple we made too much money. They don't take into consideration a lot of things sometimes, like the loans Bella was having to pay off... so we were stuck." I see Edward's hand ball into a fist and decide to take over.

"I did some research and found a scholarship Edward could get that would help him in his goal to become a vet—but the catch was he'd have to be single to qualify. I'll spare you the details on how that went over, but ultimately we decided to divorce so he could capitalize on this opportunity."

"Wait, so...I don't get it. You said you were just reunited..." Margo looks confused.

I laugh.

"Well, yeah. This is going to sound so ridiculous saying this out loud, but I told him that he needed to study and since I was just a distraction...we should cease contact. I, we, made this plan to meet back up after 10 years and then...live happily ever after."

"What do you mean...like, you didn't talk on the phone, email...no contact at all?! But you still love each other, right?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"It's seriously been 10 years since you've seen one another? And you didn't meet anyone else or..." she's leading and Edward shakes his head.

"It's only been a little over 8 years, I think."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard...I can't even imagine doing something like that..." she trails off in thought. "But, I guess, it's also very selfless of both of you. Maybe even a little romantic."

"See now...we're like, romantic and stuff." I smile.

"You're all finished, Bella." Charlotte comes along and she's beaming at Edward. How can she not, though...really? He's worth beaming over.

When we get back to the house, Edward lets Jasper out and I head into the bedroom to lay down. Today has been a good day. I feel like I have more energy than usual, but I want to reserve it—keep it. I decide a nap will help me do just that.

Right before I climb under the covers, I remember the letters. When we decided to go through with the divorce, we also agreed that we would document our lives, so when we met again we could share what we went through with each other. It was the only way I could think of that would allow us to not forget what had happened...the little things we wanted the other person to know. The little things and big things the other would miss.

Edward was pretty irritated that I'd ask this of him. He reasoned that if he had to think of things to tell me, he may as well call—but I wouldn't let him. We did talk on the phone at first—but it became too hard for me, and then, in turn, hard for Edward. It broke my heart every time I had to hang up the phone...every time I'd hear the dial tone, I felt despair and would second guess everything. The plan, the why.

I get up to find the first five year's worth of letters. When I take a nap, this will give Edward something to do.

"What's up? I thought you were gonna lay down." Edward comes in quietly and Jasper is romping all over the place.

"I am, I just...remembered your letters and thought you might like to look through them. It might help fill in the gaps."

"Yeah, when I went home I got yours. I thought we'd look through them together."

"Oh. You know what, I didn't know you had them with you. I won't be able to take a nap now knowing I could read them."

"Well, we could both lay down and then look at them later. It's not a big deal." he says.

_Not a big deal?_

"It's a huge deal, Edward! What is wrong with you!? Have you gone crazy? Give me my letters!" I admonish him while laughing.

"I'm going, I'm going." I watch as he grabs for his keys, smile wide, then he tosses them in the air to show off.

I'm nervous, not for me—not for what I'll find in his letters to me, but how he'll perceive the letters I wrote to him. If it was hard then...

**A/N: What an entirely awkward place to end this, huh? I'm sorry about that, but my laptop is near death and decided to delete part of this chapter. I was so miffed that I just emailed it to myself and decided to post from my desktop. I hope to have another chapter up in less than a week, however...so that might lessen the blow?**

**Thank you all for your kindness. For your hearts and how good you are. It's...inspiring for me. And I am grateful.**


	9. Chapter 9

Year One, March 2

_I last spoke with you before Christmas, the beginning of December. Oh, Edward, so much has changed. I have so many regrets. I wish that we had made different choices. I wish I could've, without much recourse, gotten out of my contract and followed you. But more than anything, I wish when you find out about the cancer that you won't be angry. I can see the fury in your face right now, and I worry you might hate me for not telling you. I feel like my heart is breaking because of it—and it hasn't even happened yet. I never want to be the cause of your pain and I know it will hurt you._

_But even so, I cannot bring myself to pull you away from where you're meant to be. You're not meant to be with me right now, and I have hope that someday when it's our time again, you'll forgive me freely._

_I have so many thoughts and as we've decided to put it on the line I have to tell you honestly what is consuming me right now. Grief and hate—I can taste the bitterness. The 'how comes' and 'why mes' and it's new for me. You know me well and know I don't ever function like this, but I'm overcome with darkness. More than death, I fear that my heart will continue to fall prey to this overwhelming sadness and loss. I'm depressed and cynical and hard of heart._

_I'm told this is normal. Normal. Ha! It's not normal for me. This is no way of life, no way to be._

Year One, March 5

_Do you remember when I told you about my senior prom? I was such a nerd—seriously though, how many girls do you know have a fascination with exhaust and emissions and how it effects the environment? Yeah. I've always been different, and because Charlie told me I was wonderful in spite of it, I believed him. I suppose there's a fraction of who I am that still does believe it, way down in the deepest part of me._

_Anyway, I didn't date—you know this—so when I was asked in such a grand way to prom, I nearly expired with relief. Someone liked me. When I walked into the cafeteria to eat lunch and found that large, hand-made banner saying, "Bella Swan, will you go to prom with me?" after my furious blush, I mustered the courage to investigate. I found tied to one side of the banner a long rope that led out of the cafeteria._

_Quickly I followed, so excited and thinking to myself who it could be. Along the way there were little signs that said things like, "Bella Swan, please say 'yes'.""I think you're so pretty.""I think I may love you."_

_With each sign I became more and more excited, more and more thrilled to know who it could possibly be! I had no idea there was anyone interested, there never was before. And I was interested to know who would declare themselves in such a public way—so loud and very direct. I stayed with the rope and it seemingly went on forever. Finally, it lead into a room. The restroom. Finding this odd and certainly bold of some boy to wait for me in the ladies' restroom, I pushed open the door. The rope was tied to the faucet and at the end there was one final handmade sign. I didn't need to go any closer because the answer was staring at me in bold red letters. It read, "Haha! Just kidding."_

_No one was there to see my face. To see my impressionable teenage heart...break. How humiliated I was to allow hope to fester in my heart. Of course there was no one interested—I was just too weird. I never hid my smarts and was outgoing in my pursuit of education and learning, so it had greatly surprised me that someone looked past that and wanted me to go to prom with them. I felt like such a loser thinking it could have been different for me, that I could be a part of both worlds—one in which I would and could accelerate and achieve academic success, and one where I was wanted for companionship, maybe even romance._

_I remember how my heart hardened that day. Such a high I had experienced at first only to receive an even bigger let down. At least then and for some time after when people would ask me, "So Bella, who was it that asked you to prom?" and I had to embarrassingly tell them it was no one—a joke even—at least then I had someone to hate. While it's now been forgiven, for the rest of my high school career I couldn't look at Mike Newton without feeling the hate for him course through me._

_With this cancer, with having to learn to do things differently, it is nameless. Faceless. Unseen and never speaking—but it's so loud and ringing in my ears. It's in my head, never leaving. It doesn't stop. And because there is no 'someone' I'm finding no where to direct my hate so I feel better. Instead it's stagnant within me and I'm burning alive._

_I don't want to live with the pain and discomfort. I'm trying to decide if it's worth it at all. I didn't know it would be so hard and I have no one to blame. I have to work through it, but for now this grief and sorry feelings are dragging me to hell. I don't want to live like this._

_I worry I'll never surface as a victor of this horrible disease._

_I miss you so much._

Bella had fallen asleep about an hour ago reading my letters. Her excitement brought with it a tiredness in knowing.

It wasn't much better for me. Well.

I was just as emotionally vacant, but never anything like I've just read. It's hard for me to consider her this way. To think she went through this without me, any of it, hurts me on a level I've felt few times before. I feel guilty that I didn't just...know. That we were less connected than I thought because I didn't just know there was something wrong.

But how could I have known?

I wonder why Charlie kept his word to Bella and didn't tell me. How he could have kept this from me. He had to have known it would_ kill_ me. I just don't understand it. Having lost my parents when I was so young, he knew he was the only dad I'd ever really known. It was his voice I heard when I was making difficult decisions that would require advice only a parent could give. And I know he loved me just as he loved Bella.

As much happiness that I've gained in just being here next to this beautiful woman, I'm so sad to have lost Charlie.

Her strength amazes me, truly. When she told me how Charlie had died, and the events after his death—it brought me quickly back to a lab my third year. Carmen, my partner, was talking about a cop that had been killed during a robbery gone horribly wrong and how sad it was. I thought of Charlie then, and his strength as The Chief. I remember thinking of how level headed he was and how careful. I flippantly told her I thought it was sad and then asked her to get our supplies.

I had no idea that the cop she was speaking of was Charlie.

I didn't watch the news, I rarely, if ever, listened to the radio. I rented movies or went to the theater—I could get a student discount. I didn't have time for anything but school. Keeping in touch with reality, what everyone else was going through was too difficult for me to deal with without Bella. It wasn't as if there was anything positive being reported anyway. Turn on the news and you'll always find death, discomfort, scandal and heartache. I was hurting enough as it was—I didn't need it. It didn't concern me so it became unimportant. It wasn't that I didn't feel sympathy, I just didn't have time to let it sink it. I acknowledged it and moved on.

I was cold. A for many, many years I functioned in a very basic state. It was the only way I knew to live without her.

Bella is a much greater person than I. I don't know how she ever does what she does. Lives the way she lives. Accepts the things she cannot change because that's really the only choice any of us have. Her life means something, not just to her, not just to me. After finding out the details of Charlie's death, her heart immediately _forgave_. She is so incredibly pure that her first instinct toward the person who took his life was not to wish for him to burn in hell, but for him to find peace.

Who does that?

Bella.

Bella does that.

**A/N: This took me a long time. My laptop died on me and all my notes and chapter outlines went bye-bye. Then, my oldest son had some final very time consuming requirements needed to earn his Cub Scout final honors. I know more crap about rocks now than I ever thought possible. This is coming to you now because I finally got a new laptop (yay me!) and I'm on vacation. The kiddos are playing near constantly with their cousins and...I actually have free time. It's very weird. **

**Regardless of all of that, I just wanted to say I'm very thankful for you reading. For the reviews, too, of course. And the private messages asking for more of this and inquiring about my health and...life. There are so many kind people and I'm happy to get a glimpse into your lives—even if just a little bit.**


	10. Chapter 10

May 6, Year One

_I know, I know...it's been a little over 2 months since I've last written. But Edward, I was in a horrible, horrible place. You saw the beginning, and I just...it'll be easier, less damaging for me if you never have to know of the middle. I don't want to relive it, and I didn't want to live it while it was happening to me. When I read over the last letter I wrote, it brings me back to that sorrow and burden that almost didn't lift for me. By the time this whole thing is over, and we're reunited and I feel your lips upon my lips, we can discuss it then—if you really feel you need to know of it. _

_I'm not ready now, and I don't know I could ever go there without you._

_Meanwhile—my head has been all over the place negative the last few months, but I'm over it. We're at the end, I'm getting better, but more than that, my heart is better._

_And you won't like this part one bit, not at all, but it's another man who has helped pick me up. Emmett. He's my physical therapist and he's very married. He doesn't understand our arrangement. He's mad at you, and mad at me. He can't understand ever leaving his Rosie for any purpose whatsoever. And I understand that. I so totally do, after having done it and continuing to do so. It's so hard._

_But it makes me humble. Grateful. I've realized that I have so, so much for which to be thankful and happy. Emmett has helped me to learn how to be myself again, and even though my figure is drastically and unforgivably altered, I'm more me than I've ever been. _

_His family has taken a liking to Charlie and me. They love us._

_Emmett has a little girl, Alex, and she's 2 years old. She's taken to calling Charlie, "Papa". I've never seen the man grin so big. I often think about how we had plans to make babies of our own. I'm not sure that's possible now—so for Charlie to have Alex, well, it's something to him. Everything to him. I'm so glad we'll have a greater chosen family—I have no doubts you'll love them when you meet them._

_Rosie and I were talking the other day at dinner. She's taken to making me some pretty creative soups that help with my dry mouth and sour stomach. She's always searching for new recipes that can be frozen and reheated without losing any nutrients or flavor. Since soup is the easiest thing for me to eat, I don't complain. She's switching things up a lot, which has made eating easier, even if it is still hard for me to keep on weight. Anyway..._

_We were talking about princesses. Just in general—their mannerisms and entitlement issues. I told her that you and I had this running joke about attitude. I told her that whenever either of us complained or whined we'd call the other one 'princess'. It wasn't a good thing, more like a slap upside the head telling the other person to knock it off already. She looks at princesses different though, I suppose she would since she has a little girl. She shared with me a quote and you know I love those._

"Whatever comes cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in a cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it."

_That quote, Edward...I can't adequately describe how it touched my heart. It was a bit like a slap in the face to be honest—and not like how we've meant it in the past._

_Part of my depression stemmed from whether or not...just my ability to be a woman. I just worry so much that I'll no longer be physically attractive to you anymore. That I won't function as a woman in the way that you're used to and my body won't respond to you how you might expect. My body is...dry, and I'm missing part of my leg. I know my hair will grow back, but will it be thinner? There is a woman in my support group who is going through a divorce—she's cancer free now—because her appearance is so altered from what it was that her husband deemed it too much. He left her._

_Will you feel that...but stay?_

_Just writing it down makes me feel ridiculous. When I write it down, I can see how stupid a thought it is simply because of how you love me. I think you'll still be attracted to me. No, okay, I'm sure of it. But how different will your lust be?_

_Once you know and we're reunited, when you close your eyes will you see me as how you remember me to be _before_...or will you fantasize of me as how I am _now_? Oh how I wish I just knew for sure._

_I miss you every day. Every. Single. Day._

_I miss you, my love._

I stop reading and it is late. Bella woke up complaining of being cold and I helped her get into a bath. She says it helps to warm her, even though to me the water felt scalding. She was self-conscious and waved me out so she could soak and bathe alone.

Enough of that though. I'm not going to read a letter like that and not go to her. She needed to know for sure, and I wasn't going to make her wait any longer.

When I get to the door, I pause briefly to listen through the door. Jasper followed me on alert, likely thinking something was wrong by my swift movements and determination.

"It's okay, Jasper. Your mama is just fine." And I stroke his ear a few times.

"Edward?" I hear Bella call because she must have heard me.

It's time to throw uncertainty aside and I open the door.

Startled, she tries to cover up and the water sloshes and is barely contained within the tub. One frail arm is covering her breasts and the other is cupped around her center.

I snort. "What are you doing, woman?"

"Edward, get out, I'll be out in a minute." she looks away as if ashamed and her cheeks are pink. It could be from the water, I hope it's from the water, but I suspect it's from embarrassment.

"I came in here to help you. Will you let me?" I speak softly, and it nearly kills me. I've never had to think of this sort of thing before—her feelings and unsure of where we are, who we are together.

"You'll let me. Please let me." I plead.

After a small moment, enough for her to express a breath, she looks right at me. I see the sadness in her eyes, maybe fear, but she's so brave. I can see it's forced, but she tries to relax and unfurls her arms and extends her hand for me to come closer.

I hate that it's like this, I want to come on strong, because it's how I feel, but I have to be careful—she has to know I mean it. And I do mean it.

**AN: If you're still there...thanks for reading. I've read, and appreciate-more than you could ever know-your interest in this story and your kind reviews. Thanks for sticking with me, despite my crazy schedule and sporadic updates.**

**My only request is that you're kind to someone today.**


	11. Chapter 11

My sweet Edward. After the first few weeks he became obsessed with knowing everything about this cancer—the medications, the lasting effects, the prognosis.

"How did you survive? Really? I'm trying to understand it, I really, really am, but after everything I've read—what you've told me. I don't understand."

"I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to die. I wanted to stay here. I wanted to love you. I love you." I pause to caress his sweet, kind face, "So, I decided not to die. My head hurt, my leg hurt, I just hurt all the time and was in this pain that was indescribable. I can't even explain—you can't imagine. But my heart, Edward, it couldn't leave you. I had to go through it all because I loved you too much to not be here."

"Well, that's sweet, but...there are mother's, that woman we met at the first chemo appointment I went with you—that I'm sure feel the same way about their husbands, their children, and yet, they die."

His words are harsh, but they're not meant to hurt. They do hurt, because I wonder the same thing myself. Why do some live and others don't? It's easy for me to explain that the reason I lived was because I just loved too much to let go, because I just...see it that way. I don't have the answers though.

"You're not giving me hell over this because you're upset with the outcome, are you?" I tease to lighten.

"Oh, no, no, no, Bella. I'm over the moon happy you're here. It just feels like there has to be more to it—it's been a bigger miracle than we even realize. Like...I don't know how to describe it so that it makes sense. I mean, I sort of feel like the miracle is that God knew how I would be without you. But to make you suffer so, I feel selfish. I feel like, I experienced pain, too—nothing that can even compare to you, I know this, but I had this pain in my life...well, you know. And here you were fighting because you love me, but—I can't explain it."

"You don't have to. I'm not asking you to. It's okay." I shift so I'm sitting more relaxed on his lap. "Move your leg. Yeah, like that. Make me comfortable, loser." I joke. He's so not a loser. "If I have to make you feel like you have to make it up to me for the rest of our lives, I can live with that. If you just...need me to feed your guilty conscience forever I can."

Suddenly I feel fingertips at my ribcage and I'm shocked.

"You wouldn't." I narrow my eyes at him.

It doesn't matter.

Edward tickles me, soft, but he starts to tickle me and then he's really not holding back.

"You are so awful, Woman!" He means it.

I smile.

"I know it."

YOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYO

We're at the end of my chemo treatments and have been for a few weeks now and I have another 3 week break before radiation treatments to my jaw. But Edward and I...we've been playful, hopeful. It's been good for our hearts and our souls. This reconnection has been easy, simple and what we both needed. It was a stupid plan to ever be apart, but we've recovered famously, even through what feels like betrayal.

I've been holding back a little. And a lot nervous. Our ability to fully be together has been delayed because of my treatments, but Edward has been persistent. Not pushing me per say, but he _wants_ me. _Still_. He amazes me with his desire. Amazes me.

We've shared ourselves intimately in the past. It's been onmy mind, a lot. He's here now, with me, and I want to have him. Be with him. I want him inside me, touching me...all of me and I want to consume him. But we've been severely limited because of my health. He's such a patient man...

And it's so strange for me that it's happening now. We're in bed with Emily, she's settled right between us. Emmett and Rosalie farmed out the kids last night so they could get out of town. After some pretty major convincing on my part, then surprisingly on Edward's, Emily was brought to our house for the night. She and Edward are still asleep and I woke up having to use the restroom.

It may have happened because of the tail end of a dream that I can't quite grasp and remember, but something causes me_ to remember_, vividly, the other night. Edward was horny. There's really no other word for what he was. I could tell he was...uncomfortable.

It wasn't for me, at least that's what I told myself at the time. It wasn't for me. I asked him to massage my back. He'd never say no. And he didn't. He started rubbing my back and I put on a show for him.

YOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYO

"_Ooo, awwww." _

"_That feels so, so good." It did feel good._

_I started circling my hips. I took off my clothes._

"_You feeling good, Bella?" I could hear the smirk in his voice. The hope. The 'yes-yes-please-let-me-get-my-dick-wet-please-oh-p lease' kind of hope. _

_Part of me felt bad because honestly, it didn't do anything for me. I so wish it did, I've been feeling better. Yet nothing._

"_Mmmm, yeeessss." I play it up a little, lower my voice, rut my pelvis into the mattress._

_His hands move lower, intimately. He's kneading my backside like his life depends on it. His breathing has changed even more than when I noticed earlier his 'situation'. I don't know for sure, but I can guess where his eyes are._

"_Are we going to do this?" his sweet voices asks, so overwhelmingly full of want. Need._

"_I really can't Edward, but I want you to... I want to watch you." I turn and let him look at me. Really see me. I can tell he thinks I'm beautiful, and I feel so beautiful when he looks at me all the time—but this look makes me feel radiant. Like I'm on top of the world and no one can touch me because this man...he loves me and sees me and I am incredible because of it._

"_No shower for me tonight then?" But he's already taking off his clothes. He's already ready, has been ready. _

"_No shower for you. I want you, right here."_

_He's holding himself, just palming softly—nothing vigorous or sharp. It compels me to touch him, and I do...right where he's most sensitive. I sit up and then touch him where it matters on his chest, where I feel him beat for me. _

_I kiss him and then his hand starts to move. I add some fingertips to his wrist, feeling his movement...feeling him move. He's watching me watch him, I can feel the heat in his stare. I straddle him and he sees my dark curls and his eyes close like it's too much._

"_Where do you want it?" He chokes out, so, so ready._

_I tell him to wait, to hold on and let me savor this for a moment._

"_I can't...where do you want it, please...Bella."_

"_I want it all over me." But I point between my legs, right in the center. Where I remember feeling it so many, many times before...where things make sense._

_He groans and in any other circumstance it would be labeled as embarrassingly fast, but it's exactly what I want. To feel. Empowered. Alive._

"_That...was good. Thank you." Soft lips touch my hair._

YOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYOYO

Right now, I feel it. Between my leg and...a half. That sharp sting where it matters. It's the wrong time, _definitely_, but I'm elated that it's happening at all. I was starting to worry it never would be the same.

This feeling is beautiful. I stretch out, carefully to not wake Emily, and it intensifies, grows stronger. My heart is so happy, I'm bursting with it. I can't help the smile that's surfaced.

I look to Edward and he's awake, watching me, curious. I mouth, _"I'm wet."_

"_Are you serious?"_ his quiet back to me.

I nod happily and begin to softly cry. Tears of such an intense joy, it's very hard to even describe.

"This cannot be happening! Bella, I'm so mad at you right now!" He's whisper yelling.

Emily wakes up.

I start to giggle.

"This cannot be happening..." he says again to no one, the ceiling.

"I thought you would be happy!" I tease and make fun.

"Not like this!" He's waving manically around us, not careful in the least because the kid is awake and it doesn't matter.

"Not like this..." Now it's more of a groan, a plea.

And I can't help but crack up, and feel light. Lighter than I've felt in so long. Reassured. I feel reassured and terrific.

"She's laughing," he says to Emily, light himself now at seeing my joy, "and I'm a schmuck."

"Waza smuck?" Emily asks in her groggy, too cute voice.

"Me." Edward tells her simply.

I reach over and touch his hair, soft between my fingers. He looks to me, love all over him.

"It just means it'll happen again. And next time we'll be ready." I wiggle a little, and then sit up quickly and call for Jasper. I can't help to rub it in—literally in a few minutes. "I'm going to take a shower now. There's some waffles in the freezer, Champ."

I wink over my shoulder and he's full on smiling. It's my favorite grin. I'm so happy to see it.

"My life! Seriously!" Edward exclaims as I giggle on my way to the bathroom.

**A/N: It's been a while, yeah? Yeah. Thanks for reading. **

**If you want something that updates consistently and you've been under a rock for a while and haven't already heard of this story...you must read Deviant by planetblue. Amazingly brilliant and charming...and I cannot say enough good things about this story. The link is in my favorites.**

**Until next time, be kind.**

This chapter has been modified due to confusion. My page breaks initially didn't upload properly and as a result some of you got the impression that Bella and Edward had sex with a kid in their bed. Ewww. I'd report myself if I ever wrote that sort of crap. Just...no. Anyway, I hope it reads better now...and to be clear they have not had sex yet...in the traditional sense because poor Bella's body hadn't got the memo yet, until this chapter.


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